


Hellbent for... Lace?

by Ellen Smithee (ellensmithee)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: hpvalensmut, Crossdressing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-04
Updated: 2011-03-04
Packaged: 2017-10-16 02:29:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/167455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellensmithee/pseuds/Ellen%20Smithee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ron helps an old nemesis - or is he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hellbent for... Lace?

The barman of the Knockturn dive looked like he'd prefer to toss the Auror out on his arse when he caught sight of the badge, but instead he just grimaced and inclined his head towards the doors leading to the back rooms.

"'E's in the back," he said. "Makin' a right nuisance of 'isself, 'e is."

The Auror nodded and his way through to the back as the barman returned to polishing the glasses over the bar. Shaking his head with a frown, he said to no one in particular, "It was better durin' the war when they 'ad better fings to do than bovver h'onest business men."

*****

The Auror stopped in the doorway of the back room, peering into the dim light before he found the man he was seeking, lying near the table and snoring gently as the light from the corridor glinted off silver-blond hair. He moved into the room and knelt on the floor, checking for a pulse before rolling the man onto his back. He thought the blond man was unconscious, but then he opened one eye and looked up at the Auror blearily.

"Weasley," he said, his voice coming out as a croak. "What're you doing here?"

Ron's heart gave a lurch at Malfoy's words, but he kept his face impassive.

"I'm gonna have to run you in this time, Malfoy," he said, just as he did every time, and every time he told himself that he'd really do it this time.

"No need," Malfoy said, sitting up and gripping the leg of the table. "Just take me home, Weasley." When Ron said nothing, Malfoy looked up into his face. "Please, Ron."

The use of his first name melted a little of the ice around Ron's heart, which was no doubt Malfoy's intention, and he reached down to help the other man to his feet.

"You smell like a distillery," he said with a grimace.

"That was my aim," Malfoy said, brushing off his wrinkled robes with dignity, swaying only slightly. "Everything looks more manageable when you're drunk." He took a few steps and then stumbled. Ron grabbed his arm, ready to fight Malfoy if he tried to throw Ron off, but the other man just leaned into him and let Ron guide him to the door.

"I remember," Ron said flatly. "It helped me get through the aftermath of Hermione's death." And that of their unborn child.

Malfoy's flinch gave him a little satisfaction, so he relented for the moment. He helped Malfoy outside through the back door of the pub and hesitated for a moment as he looked up and down the street.

"My flat is closer," he said finally. "We don't have to Apparate. Besides I reckon you don't want your posh pureblood neighbors to see you being brought home by an Auror."

"You don't know what I want!" Malfoy said with bitter venom. Instead of moving away, however, he kept a tight grip on Ron's arm and then sighed. "You never did, Weasley."

Ron's chest constricted slightly at the sad tone in Malfoy's voice. "Story of my life," he muttered.

They walked the rest of the way to Ron's flat in silence, or, rather, Ron did, half carrying, half dragging Malfoy along. Finally they reached Ron's building, and Ron helped Malfoy up the stairs to the small flat. Once they were inside, Ron gently propelled Malfoy to an easy chair and pushed him onto it.

"I'll get the sobering potion," he said, leaving the other man to fetch it, and, after a moment's consideration, a hangover potion from the bathroom. When he returned, Malfoy had dozed off in the chair, looking for all the world like he belonged there. Ron watched him sleep for a moment and then touched his shoulder, jerking away quickly when Malfoy opened his eyes.

"Here, take these," he said, pushing them into Malfoy's hand. He then stood and headed over to the kitchenette.

"When was the last time you ate something?" he called as he took the contents of the last care package his mother had sent him from the fridge and started to heat them up.

"Dunno, think I had some peanuts at the pub," Malfoy answered from directly behind him. Ron whirled around in surprise that the other man was so close and stared dumbly at Malfoy for a moment before nodding at the table.

"Then you need to eat," he said, shoving a plate at Malfoy. "You shouldn't take the potions on an empty stomach.

For a moment, he thought Malfoy's pride would kick in and the other man would refuse, but then Malfoy just shrugged and sat down.

Ron watched Malfoy wolf down the food, dispensing with good manners in his hunger. Ron wondered when Malfoy had last eaten - he suspected the other man hadn't had much more than liquid refreshment in days. He was overly thin and had bags under his eyes, like he hadn't had a decent night's sleep in ages.

Annoyed with himself for even caring, Ron tried to push away his concern. _He's not mine to worry about_ , he thought. _Not anymore._

"Didn't your mum ever tell you it was impolite to stare?" Malfoy asked, his snark obviously the first thing to reassert itself as he returned to normal. He set down his fork and turned his gaze on Ron. "I should be getting home."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "You're in desperate need of a shower," he said, searching for an excuse to keep Malfoy there, if just for a little while longer. "You don't want to get turned away by your doorman."

He paused, holding his breath as he waited for Malfoy to mock him, and by the look on the other man's face, he could tell the other was considering it. Instead of the expected putdown, however, Malfoy grinned.

"Sounds good to me," he said, getting to his feet. As he headed to the bathroom, Ron went to the linen closet and got the other man some towels, unconsciously choosing his fluffiest ones, and an extra toothbrush. He returned to the bathroom and tried the door, frowning when he noticed it was locked.

"Malfoy?" he called. "I have towels, can you open up?" When no answer came, he knocked again and again, his heart starting to pound. "Malfoy? Malfoy? Draco!"

In a panic as he imagined all sorts of horrific scenarios on the other side of the door, Ron drew his wand and blasted the door open. Expecting to find Draco unconscious on the floor, he stepped through and froze. He just _stared_ at Draco for a moment while the other man glared back indignantly.

"Take a picture, it lasts longer," Draco snarled, starting to turn away with a scowl. Seeming to realize what he'd just said, he grabbed his wand from the sink and pointed it at Ron. "On second thought, if you _do_ take a picture, I'll hex you into oblivion.

Ron barely registered Draco's comments. Instead he motioned to Draco's groin, making a number of faces as he tried to express what he was thinking. "It... it... it's pink."

"Oh, shut it, Weasley!" Draco hissed. "If I wanted your fashion advice, I'd ask for it."

"Sorry," Ron said, biting his lower lip to hold back the mirth. "But... girl's knickers."

Draco's jaw tightened. "I lost a bet, all right? And that's all I'm saying about the matter."

Despite his amusement and Draco's obvious embarrassment - or perhaps because of it due to the rosy glow that suffused Draco's normally pale body - Ron's pulse started to race as he gazed at the other man. Draco was a bit thinner than Ron remembered, but still lithe and muscular. The pink knickers were incongruous, but oddly enticing. As Ron stared, he became aware that Draco had noticed his regard as well. The bulge in the knickers was rapidly growing and Ron licked his lips unconsciously as he thought about touching it.

"Ron," Draco breathed, half pleadingly. "We shouldn't do this."

"Who says?" Ron said, dropping to his knees in front of Draco. He reached out and traced the outline of the other man's erection through the knickers with his fingertip, noting Draco's moan of pleasure with satisfaction. Intent on claiming his prize, he opened his mouth and leaned forward, only to gasp in pain when Draco twisted his fingers into Ron's hair and pulled his head up so that he was looking into Ron's face.

"Do you still fuck who Potter tells you you can?" Draco asked, the bitterness in his voice matching that in his eyes.

Ron gazed up at Draco for a moment, his scalp smarting where Draco was pulling hard on his hair.

"I make my own decisions," he said finally. "I always have. And breaking it off was the right decision at the time." Hermione had barely been dead a year back then, after all.

"Maybe not for me," Draco said, so softly that Ron could barely hear him. He loosened his tight hold on Ron's hair as he gave the other man a penetrating look. "Do you know what you want now?" His voice deepened to a husky undertone.

"Yeah, I reckon I do." Before Draco could say another word, Ron gripped his hips and leaned forward to mouth Draco's erection through the lace.

Draco let out a soft cry of surprise, bucking towards Ron's mouth. Grinning against the bulge in the knickers, Ron took Draco's reaction as encouragement and continued. He massaged the outline of Draco's balls and shaft with his lips and then licked the tip until the lace was damp, breathing heavily through his nose in excitement as Draco's salty taste hit his tongue through the cloth. Only then did Ron reach for the waistband of the pink knickers to pull them down with a hungry growl. He just stared at the sight before him for a moment, licking his lips unconsciously.

"God, I love your cock," he said, reaching to grasp it and leaning forward to suck the tip into his mouth in one fluid motion. He was barely cognizant of Draco's smirk being replaced by a look of pleased surprise and then intense concentration as Ron worked over Draco's prick with his lips and tongue and throat.

"Don't stop," Draco breathed, reaching down to twist his fingers in Ron's hair. He thrust shallowly into the other man's mouth, whimpering in pleasure.

Licking the tip assiduously, Ron moaned at the familiar taste of Draco's precome. He let the head slide into mouth once more, relaxing his throat and sucking hard. He smiled around Draco's cock as the other man came with a strangled groan, shooting down Ron's throat. Ron swallowed everything Draco gave him and then pulled away, cleaning the last few drops from his lips with his tongue as he gazed up at Draco.

"God, you're so gorgeous," Draco said breathlessly, pulling Ron to his feet. He crushed his lips to Ron's delving his tongue into the other man's mouth and groaning. "You taste like me," he said, breaking the kiss. "Now I'm going to make you scream."

"Oh, God, yeah," Ron said, letting Draco divest him of his clothing and turn him around.

"Bend over the sink," Draco said, "and don't turn around." Ron complied, trembling in anticipation. He gripped the porcelain edge until his knuckles had gone white as he listened to Draco rooting around the bathroom cupboard behind him. Finally, he could bear it no longer and was about to turn to see what Draco was doing, when he felt a warm hand on his hip and a puff of breath at the back of his neck that made the small hairs there stand on end and his nipples pebble.

"Good man," Draco said, his voice oddly strained. Ron looked into the mirror, but all he could see was the top of Draco's head.

"Draco..." he started to say, but Draco shushed him. He frowned and opened his mouth again, but all that came out was a low moan as Draco slid slippery fingers down Ron's cleft, stopping at his hole. Draco's teased the ring and then pressed a finger inside, curling it to reach Ron's prostate.

"Fuck," Ron said, pressing back against the finger urgently. "Christ, don't stop."

"Of course I won't," Draco said haughtily, sounding so much like his prewar, pre-Azkaban self for a second that Ron froze. At that moment, however, Draco slipped another finger inside next to the first and then another, and soon Ron was fucking himself on them, _willing_ Draco to touch his aching cock.

"Look at me," Draco urged, raising Ron's chin so that he was looking in the mirror once more, his eyes locked on Draco's as Draco lowered his hand to grasp Ron's cock. Ron gasped as Draco stroked his cock, pushing back automatically against the fingers that filled him, driving them against his prostate once more. Draco licked his lips as he watched Ron's reaction, his chest heaving. "You like that, don't you?" he asked.

"Yes." Ron's eyes fell closed and he clenched his jaw, making a low keening sound deep in his throat. "Yes, I like it, I love it, fuck, Draco, I'm coming."

Draco sank his teeth into Ron's skin where his neck met his shoulder and Ron screamed, spurting all over Draco's hand and the wall under the sink as he came. His vision went dark for a moment and he gripped the sink to keep from falling as he laid his head on Draco's shoulder.

Draco carefully extricated his fingers from Ron's arse and wrapped his arms around Ron's torso, pressing a kiss to the rapidly purpling bite mark. Ron raised his hands to cover Draco's, feeling more content than he had in ages.

"I can't do this alone anymore," Draco said softly, his eyes glued to their joined hands. He looked up to meet Ron's eyes in the mirror, gazing at him with rare sincerity. "I need you."

Ron stared at Draco for a long moment, and then he smiled as he squeezed Draco's hands. "You have me."


End file.
